


77th Class Saviors

by Praegressus



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Battle of Wits, Canon-Typical Violence, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Gen, Gun Violence, Intrigue, Plot, Regular Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Praegressus/pseuds/Praegressus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it was Junko's own class that became the Ultimate Despair?</p>
<p>The 77th class, saved by a message from their former homeroom teacher, decide to fight back against the never-ending tide of despair. As members of the Future Foundation, they aim to be this world's beacons of hope!</p>
            </blockquote>





	77th Class Saviors

**Author's Note:**

> My second AO3 fic, also for the world of Danganronpa!
> 
> This one is basically another IF story, only this time it's the Ultimate Despair that end up fighting for the world's future.
> 
> Story arcs will usually concern DR2 cast members and 1-2 DR1 cast member(s), and will be self-contained stories that affect one another but don't tie in directly.
> 
> Keep in mind that this is written around the halfway point of DR3, so it may clash against the yet-to-be-established canon of the two anime arcs.
> 
> Here's the prologue!

A bonfire, diligently set up and liberally doused with gasoline, roared to life on an open field at the very northwestern edge of Novoselic. Fourteen figures huddled around it, the blaze protecting them from the worst of the wind.

Although the rural countryside never was lively, for the farmer’s life is a work of hard work and well-earned quiet, these days it was completely desolate, with not a living thing in sight. Even the crops, sown at the start of the year, now sat dying, surrounded by overgrowth and brush.

There were more of them in the class at the start of the year – 15 talents, scouted by the smiling man in the white fedora. Their class president, elected by popular vote, was the kind and capable Chiaki Nanami, known as the Ultimate Gamer.

However, the Tragedy struck, drowning the world in chaos and despair – all they got was a text message from their homeroom teacher, on the day the government in Japan collapsed.

It was strange, considering that he barely knew their names. More often than not, he’d get his colleague to cover for him – until she was booted to the Reserve course, that is.

They were scared – society was collapsing all around them, and this message promised salvation. It wasn’t until they were in the airplane, taking off, that they recalled the family they were leaving behind. That regret stayed with them all.

“What do we do if they don’t show?”

“They’re the Future Foundation, Kazuichi, if there’s anyone you can trust these days, it’s them.”

The young man reluctantly nodded at the photographer’s words, silently pushing his hands a bit closer to the fire. He was still a bit upset that they had to leave the plane behind – the autopilot AI was outstanding, and the bar _was_ well-stocked…

Most of them were hungry, uncomfortable and tired. Then again, that applied to far too many people in this age of despair. Yet hope persisted – throughout the rioting cities, the Foundation was spoken of in hushed whispers, for fear of being overheard by someone despair-addled. They were the true legacy of Hope’s Peak, men and women who fought in the name of hope and used their considerable talents to beat back the flood of misery and chaos that was despair.

It was Nagito’s idea initially, with Sonia and Ryota backing him up; from there, it wasn’t long until everyone agreed that joining up with the Future Foundation was the best course of action. Despite the very real risk that they might collectively be rejected, it was at least worth a shot.

After all, they knew those people, they knew the Ultimate Despair.

The 78th class, counting the Ultimate Programmer, Ultimate Detective and even an Ultimate Lucky Student of their own, were the youngest year in the school when the inciting incident occurred – once bright-eyed and hopeful, they were now some of the most influential and dreaded people in the world, bested only by their classmate and leader, the True Ultimate Despair herself, Enoshima Junko.

They knew all that, but only because they’ve seen it happen – the shadow that gripped the underclassmen’s hearts was obvious only in hindsight, but even such belated knowledge is better than nothing.

“That sound…” the musician exclaimed, perking up, “a whirly-twirl in the sky! They’re coming!”

No one else had such an attuned sense of hearing, but within a minute’s time, the sound was clear to everyone – a helicopter, quieter than expected but still audible, was definitely coming their way.

“I guess this is it, huh?”

“Relax!” the team manager roared, though even his own nigh-perpetual energy seemed to be waning, “everything’s gonna be alright so long as we stick together!”

“But what if… what if they split us up?”

“Please, be calm. Now is most definitely not a time to lose our nerve.”

No one else seemed willing to voice their doubts after that. Were it a different scenario, maybe they wouldn’t have hesitated at all… yet this world has a way of getting to you, regardless of whether you’re prepared or not. Ultimates they may be… but they _are_ still people.

The helicopter came around.

* * *

They’ve set up the tent with remarkable, almost military speed. The surprising bit is that the whole thing was set up by the two men; the intense-looking one in the fancy jacket and the pilot, who was clad in a dirty white jumpsuit and didn’t seem all that interested in anything other than his job.

The woman, however, was the most remarkable one – clad in a thick leather coat, face wrapped in a matter not unlike Tanaka’s, seated patiently in what must be the bastard child of a tank and a wheelchair. She was the only one that actually observed the assembled students, but strangely enough, she was the only one not to speak in any way – at least the pilot was polite enough to ask them to wait until they’ve set up the tent.

“We done here?” the dark-haired dude asked the pilot, only to get a shrug that implied that _he_ was the one who was supposed to know that.

Not long after that, the chair-bound woman came down to the bonfire:

“Sonia Nevermind, you were the one who sent the message. Would you accompany me to the tent? I promise no harm will come to either you or your compatriots.”

Glances were exchanged, but no one other than Fuyuhiko was really opposed to the idea, and he himself was complaining more out of habit than anything else. Cautiously, Sonia followed behind the woman.

The tent was roomier than it looked – the intense man was sitting in the corner, legs propped up against the wall. He gave a nod at the two when they entered, then went back to idly staring at some datapad. There was a table with a single chair in the middle, and its point was made clear when the woman came to a halt on the other side of it; straightening her dress out, Sonia took a seat.

“My name is Miaya Gekkohara,” the synthetic voice spoke, “my associate is Juzo Sakakura.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” the princess smiled, only barely nodding.

A screen came up from the front of the chair, stopping just below the strange woman’s eyes. To life came an image of a cartoon rabbit, dressed in a fantastical dress, a magical wand in her hand.

“Finally! No more hiding!”

“Uh… I don’t understand…”

“Just go with it, will you?” Juzo spoke up, still mostly frowning, “saves time.”

His hardline demeanor reminded her of Nekomaru, which reinvigorated her for some reason:

“Sir, yes, sir!”

He gave a single dry chuckle at that, then went back to whatever he was doing – odds are he was the woman’s bodyguard.

“First question!” the rabbit thing, which seemed far more appropriate an owner for the synthesized voice, spoke up, flailing its little rabbit arms around, “Why did you contact us?”

Immediately, the princess realized this was far more than a formality – apparently simple, the question was loaded, quite heavily in fact. Still, it was one she expected, so the answer came quickly:

“This country… you must’ve noticed,” she sighed, “the people have retreated underground – despair had triggered the cataclysm protocol.”

“Underground?” the man whistled, “that has to be some system if you fit an entire country.”

“We’ve employed only the best in its construction, yes. The Ultimate Architect was involved for the majority of the project…” the memory was oddly vivid in her mind, the wink and smirk of the woman, her eagerness to start working on the kingdom’s last line of defense, despite the vow of silence she was made to swear.

“It is our wish to employ our talents against the organizations that forced the world in such a state!” she exclaimed, swinging her arm as if she’s addressing a large crowd, rather than just the two.

“And what _does_ a princes _s_ know, exactly?”

“Many things!” she laughed.

“ _For example_ ,” she began, in fluent English, “Ich kann merh als 30 Sprachen sprechen…” continuing in German, “a imam I zakonski propisanu dozvolu za operaciju svim vojnim vozilima kraljevstva Novoselic!” before finishing, with a smile, in a tongue neither of the two recognized.

Gekkohara seemed to fiddle with something, tilting her head a bit and then nodding:

“Tell us something about your friends, please,” despite the politeness, it was still a command rather than a request, but Sonia decided to pretend it was one nonetheless.

“Well, Kazuichi is the most gifted tinkerer I’ve ever even heard of, let alone seen, coach Nekomaru took care of us despite the strange and frightening state of the world…”

She paused for a bit, finding herself unable to suppress a smile, despite the situation clearly suggesting it to be inappropriate.

“…and Gundham is partnered with four very powerful dark gods, whose combined might would be enough to completely eradicate despair from this world!”

Were they not jaded by the constant war that was trying to protect the world, both Foundation members would be awed by the way the girl delivered such an outrageous line with a straight face – as it was, it was only mildly perturbing.

“Very well…” the bunny-thing on Gekkohara’s screen sighed, lazily waving about its magical wand, “that would be all for now.”

* * *

“Isn’t your boss going to join?” the Ultimate Yakuza spoke up, throwing his legs onto the table.

“What are you talking about, kid?”

“Your boss,” Fuyuhiko repeated, stretching the words out like he was talking to a particularly young child, “the pilot.”

The two Foundation members exchanged glances, an entire conversation held in under a second. First there was shock, then worry, fear and awe; this awe was made into respect, and Sakakura quietly left the tent to fetch his old friend.

“Clever,” Munakata sighed, stepping inside and unzipping his uniform a bit, “audacity isn’t enough, though.”

This wasn’t a normal recruitment run, that was clear. An entire class, the one enrolled just before the Ultimate Despair… he had to come see it himself, to judge with his own eyes whether they were as uncorrupted as they appeared to be.

This wasn’t something they could sweep under the rug- the 77th class resurfacing was _huge_ , no matter how he looked at it. Turned into assets, they could be the surge the Foundation needs to deliver decisive strikes against the Ultimate Despair.

“I’m packing way more than just a good pair of eyes,” the yakuza prince smirked, “finances, small unit management, covert transport… Heck, anything those despair fucks have, I have a way to tear it down.”

He had good points – the Kuzuryu name still had a lot of pull in the underground world, which waged a war not unlike theirs, just far bloodier. Flash-mobs of people wearing monokuma masks gathered to pillage and burn, occasionally attacking an important gang holding. Opposed to the somewhat more trained criminals, the mobs would more often than not be scattered by gunfire – those few times they kept going, however…

There was another, though… a girl, his younger sister. The current head of the clan… with the boy on their side, the considerable knowledge and manpower of the Kuzuryu would be the Foundation’s, whether the clan itself fell to despair or not – Fuyuhiko’s mere presence would be enough to snap the loyal Yakuza out of the twisted mindset.

“And what if we decide you’re best split up?” the white-clad man prodded, scowling when he got a reaction, “What if your little family needs to be broken up in order to help the foundation?”

“Hey! Don’t go saying shit like that! How could that possibly work, huh?”

“They’ve relied on one another to get past the despair in this world,” the magical girl avatar spoke from Gekkohara’s screen, “a drastic change like separation might prove… troubling.”

“Bulk purchase,” Juzo grinned, back in his own chair.

“Something like that,” the voice confirmed.

“Hey, I’m right here, fucktards.”

“I see… very well, you may leave, Kuzuryu.”

“Really? You’re just going to invite me in, tell me I’m basically nothing without those guys outside, and expect I just casually saunter out?”

“It’d be the best outcome, yes,” Munakata replied with a cool voice, completely ignoring the boy’s colorful language.

“Oh, something’s coming out, you stuck-up bastard…”

“Please, stop.”

They both turned to the woman in the chair. The disappointment in her eyes made the realization that they were being talked down to even more uncomfortable.

“Fine, whatever.”

Munakata made up his mind – he’d approve of their request. Proper training could be provided by the Foundation itself, and their talents would be put to use. The despair world order imposed by Enoshima would be crushed by the bright hopes of not only these youths, but every Future Foundation member, every civilian life saved…

The world was changing, and it was up to them, the onetime students of Hope’s Peak Academy, to set right what was wrong, no matter the cost. Only then, when the world is finally at peace, safe from despair, would he dare to do what his heart yearned he do.

* * *

The helicopter, now loaded with over a dozen people, silently took to the sky.

While it was a great victory for the Future Foundation, it was a success greater still for the weary students of Hope’s Peak’s 77th class.

Holding onto a bar with a vicelike grip, Nagito Komaeda let his feet dangle from the helicopter’s side, eyes fixed on the waning moon in the night sky. His friends were going to fight with the people who champion the ideals of hope… his heart was elated, a dreamy haze suppressing any negative thoughts.

If only he too could be of any use… but a wretch is always going to be a wretch. He wasn’t lucky enough to be born the kind of person that can make a difference, after all. The only thing he could do was do his best to serve them until his illness finally consumes him..

That would be a beautiful way to go, wouldn’t it?


End file.
